Trapped

Alex

A loud scream, followed by a gunshot, jolted me awake.

My heart pounded in my chest as I sat up, terrified. All I wanted was to curl into a ball under my covers and hide from whatever terrible thing was happening outside my room.

But my mom and dad were out there, and I knew they would never let anything hurt me.

With trembling hands, I slowly pushed the covers away. I grabbed my teddy bear and hugged it tightly to my chest, hoping it might bring a little comfort.

Maybe they’re just watching something scary on TV, I told myself as I turned the doorknob and stepped into the hallway. My whole body trembled as I tiptoed forward into the unknown.

At the top of the stairs, I gripped the railing and froze.

My eyes widened in horror. My chest tightened, and it felt like I had forgotten how to breathe.

I ducked behind the wall and peeked out again, forcing my body to move.

Four masked, armed men stood in the living room, their tall, muscular figures blocking something from view.

Where are Mommy and Daddy?

I took slow, shallow breaths, trying to stay calm. My dad had once told me that if I ever found myself in danger, I should never interfere—just call 911 and ask for help. I knew I should. But my legs wouldn’t move.

One of the intruders shifted, and I gasped, dropping my teddy bear. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. It was just a bad dream, that’s all.

Any second now, I would wake up in my bed, the blankets pulled tight around me, and I would run straight into my mom’s arms, safe in the warmth where nothing could touch me.

But something in me—something small and shaking—looked again, because my brain refused to believe the first glimpse.

There was a body on the floor that didn’t move. Blood painted the tiles, like someone had spilled a bucket on purpose. And the woman lying there…

The woman was my mother.

My dad was kneeling beside her, cradling her lifeless body, sobbing. He shouted something at the men—something I couldn’t make out—and one of them punched him in the stomach. He crumpled to the ground with a groan.

They barked something at him, but he wasn’t listening. He looked straight at me, his hazel eyes locking with mine, those same eyes that always made me feel safe.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I trembled so violently I could hardly breathe, but I stayed silent. Somehow, they hadn’t noticed me yet.

My father’s lips moved. Hide.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. My body was frozen in place.

I watched in horror as one man stepped toward my dad and raised a gun to his forehead. There was a strange tattoo on the man’s hand, the one gripping the gun. It looked like a symbol from another language, something foreign and sharp. He leaned in close to my dad and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

My dad looked back at me, then spat something in the man’s face.

The man growled and raised the gun again. “I believe you already miss your wife, Agent Ryan,” he said. “Tell her I send my regards.”

He pulled the trigger. The sound shattered everything.

The smell of gunpowder filled the air. My dad collapsed beside my mom. Blood gushed from the wound on his forehead, pooling beneath him.

I stared, paralyzed. Trying to convince myself it wasn’t real.

Just a dream, I told myself. A terrible dream. I shouldn’t have watched that crime movie before bed…

But I wasn’t waking up.

My chest heaved. Panic clawed at my lungs, stealing the air.

And then, I screamed.

All the men turned. The man with the tattoo barked something, and they started heading toward me.

I turned and ran, tears blinding me. I locked myself in my closet, curled up with my knees to my chest, and waited for them to come and kill me, too. But they never came.

Then I heard sirens.

The police found me curled up in the closet, silent, frozen in shock. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All I could do was sit there as the screams echoed in my ears, the gunshots rang out again, and the metallic scent of blood clung to everything.

I waited to wake up.

But I never did.

I woke with a gasp, panting as I tried to shake the nightmare. My hand trembled as I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and ran it through my hair.

It had been years since that day, but the nightmare still felt real. Every detail still burned into my memory. And it didn’t surprise me that I had had it tonight. Tomorrow was a big day. My first official day as an FBI agent.

I glanced at my nightstand clock and sighed. Three hours until my alarm. No way I was falling back asleep now.

I threw off the covers and padded into the kitchen. As I poured myself a glass of water, a breeze brushed my face. One of the windows was open.

I moved to shut it but paused, drawn in by the quiet streets of Manhattan. New York never truly slept, but in these rare moments of stillness, it felt almost peaceful.

Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I let my thoughts drift back to the nightmare.

I had promised myself years ago that I wouldn’t let what happened break me. That I would grow up to be the woman my parents always wanted me to be. That I would make them proud.

The years without them hadn’t been easy, but I kept going, pushed through. Because I believed they were watching over me. And no matter how hard I tried to hide the scars, I still felt trapped in that memory.

Growing up, I always dreamed of catching the ones who took my parents from me. Maybe that was why I wanted to join the FBI to follow in my father’s footsteps.

The rest of the family thought I was crazy. They blamed my dad’s job for their deaths. But I remembered his dedication. His bravery. His commitment to justice.

And even though I never had justice myself, I believed in it, too. And maybe helping others find it would ease the pain a little.

I took a deep breath and looked at the clock. Still a couple of hours before I had to get ready. I needed a distraction.

So I worked out, then showered, then got dressed in a white shirt, charcoal blazer, and slacks. Finally, I made sure my gun was loaded before I holstered it.

I pulled my dark-brown hair into a neat bun and skipped makeup. My chocolate-brown eyes would speak for themselves.

Before I left, I paused at the framed picture of my parents. I smiled. Then I grabbed my keys and walked out.

It took me about twenty minutes to reach the FBI headquarters at the Federal Plaza. I parked my car, stepped out, and stood for a moment, gazing up at the building.

This was it. The beginning of everything I had dreamed of since I was a kid.

A smile tugged at my lips.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation… here we go.

Inside, I went through security. My bag went through the X-ray, and I went through the metal detector. A security guard asked for my badge. I showed it to him proudly.

He typed something into his computer, checking my credentials. After a moment, a small smile appeared on his face.

“Welcome aboard, Agent Ryan.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a genuine smile and headed toward the elevators.

In the foyer, there were photos and write-ups of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted. Beside them, a sign displayed the three words that captured the essence of the FBI in bold lettering. Fidelity. Bravery. Integrity.

The elevator dinged. I stepped in and pressed the button for the tenth floor. Just before the doors closed, a guy with light brown hair and hazel eyes slipped in. He reached for the same button but paused when he saw it was already lit.

“Oh, headed to the Violent Crimes Unit too?” he asked with a friendly smile.

“Yes.”

“Are you the new agent?” His eyes brightened with curiosity.

“I am,” I replied with a confident smile.

“I’m Caleb Woods.” He held out his hand. “I work there too, but I’m a technical analyst, not a field agent.”

He seemed kind, approachable, someone easy to talk to. I shook his hand. “Alexandra Ryan. But you can call me Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. Welcome to the team.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling back. “Excited to be part of it.”

The elevator stopped, and we stepped onto a bustling floor. Agents sat at desks, scanned documents, spoke on phones, or rushed around with files. Some escorted handcuffed suspects. The air buzzed with energy.

“Hey, why don’t I introduce you to the team?” Caleb offered.

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged. I needed to get to know everyone anyway.

We walked into the center of the bullpen. Caleb stopped and raised his voice.

“Hey, guys! Attention, please. Help me welcome our new agent, Alexandra Ryan!”

I blinked. Definitely not how I expected to be introduced.

Everyone looked up. I opened my mouth, searching for words. “Um… hi. It’s a pleasure to be here. I’m looking forward to working with you all.”

Some agents smiled and nodded. Others barely looked up before returning to their work.

“What an introduction,” I said to Caleb, smirking.

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck.

A woman around my age approached. Green eyes, reddish-brown hair. Confident energy.

“Hey, I’m Ava Smith. Communications liaison,” she said. Then she beamed. “Finally, more girl power in here. This place is drowning in testosterone.”

I chuckled and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ava.”

“You too. We’re gonna have a blast, and probably end up drinking buddies. Give it a few days, and you’ll see why we all need the bar to survive this place.”

Caleb chuckled under his breath. “She’s not wrong.”

I smiled, genuinely. I could already tell I was going to like these two.

As I glanced around the bullpen again, my gaze caught on an agent seated at one of the far desks. He was already watching us. But the moment he noticed me looking back, he shifted his eyes and pretended to focus on the file in his hands.

What caught my attention first were his eyes. They were deep blue and intense. His sharp jawline was edged with stubble, and his dark brown hair looked like he hadn’t bothered to style it, just ran a hand through and called it a day. He was undeniably handsome… not that I cared.

But there was something else. He looked like the type born in a suit. The kind who spoke in a low baritone and used legal jargon even when talking about the weather. The kind who saw the world in black and white, right or wrong, legal or illegal.

I had met plenty like him in Quantico. Part of me hoped I wouldn’t have to work with him often.

“Alexandra.”

I turned at the sound of a familiar voice and forced a polite smile. “Sir…”

George Wyatt, Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Violent Crimes Unit. He had worked with my father and had even been a close friend of the family.

After the incident, he used to visit me at my grandparents’ house. Then the visits stopped. I hadn’t seen him in years.

Now, he looked older. His hair had gone mostly gray, and the lines around his eyes spoke of years in the field, of everything he had seen, endured, and carried with him.

“I was glad when I heard you were joining the team,” he said kindly. “Your father would be proud.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said softly.

“You’ll get your first case soon. In the meantime, I’d like to see you in my office.” He turned and called out, “Hunt! See me in my office.”

Hunt?

I watched the agent with the blue eyes stand and follow Wyatt upstairs. He was the same man who had been watching us earlier. He didn’t look at me again.

I frowned slightly, then followed them.

Inside Wyatt’s office, he gestured for me to sit across from his desk... next to Agent Hunt.

“Hunt, you don’t have a partner, do you?” Wyatt asked.

“No, sir.”

“Well, you do now.” Wyatt looked between us. “From now on, Agent Ryan is your partner.”

I blinked. So much for not working with him often.

“With all due respect, sir,” Hunt said tightly. “I prefer working alone. I don’t need a partner.”

I glared at him—not that he noticed.

“Good thing I wasn’t asking,” Wyatt replied dismissively. “You’ll be assigned to your first case together soon. End of discussion.”

Agent Hunt looked furious. He stood, muttered something, and stormed out.

I excused myself and went after him. “Hey, wait!”

He stopped and turned. His eyes were ice. “What do you want?”

“What’s wrong with you?” I snapped.

He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t work with partners. And I have the highest case closure rate in this division. Now I have to babysit you.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I saw the way Wyatt talked to you. You’re probably his niece or something. That’s the only reason you’re here. He assigned you to me so I can keep you safe. Well, sorry, I’m not a babysitter.”

What a jackass!

I clenched my fists. I was this close to punching him.

“I don’t know who you think you are, and I don’t care about your precious closure rate,” I said through gritted teeth. “But you don’t get to talk to me like that. You know nothing about me.”

He said nothing. I kept going.

“I graduated top of my class at Quantico. I chose New York over D.C. Wyatt was a friend of my father. I hadn’t seen him in over a decade. And I don’t need your protection. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

His eyes widened. I didn’t give him time to respond.

“Also, you might want to try humility. I hear it’s good for the soul. And maybe, just maybe, get over yourself, jerk.”

Then I turned on my heel and walked away.

If this was going to be my partner, I was going to prove myself twice as hard.

Game on.